


The Beginning

by taketheblanket



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Drabble, Ficlet, M/M, Pre-Slash, Prince and Shield bonding, brotherhood era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 10:53:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11942628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taketheblanket/pseuds/taketheblanket
Summary: As they come of age, Noctis and Gladio find different ways to deal with the mounting anxiety brought upon by their positions within their lines.





	The Beginning

_The End_

Gladio shuts the novel with satisfaction, running his thumb over the curled edge of the pages. His paperbacks always start to curl, now that he carries them around his back pocket all the time. He tenderly sets the book aside; another one for the stacks. He picks up a new book he brought along in case and rolls it in his palms, cracking the spine in preparation.

He lifts his eyes to look at Noctis where he stands on the dock, stock still and staring out at the water, his hands poised but loose around the handle of his rod. He looks up at the sky, finds the sun. It must be at least ten a.m. The sun begins to beat warmly on their backs, a pleasant shift from the chilly dawn they had greeted together. Their voices were softer than the sound of their boots breaking brush beneath them as they hiked to the water’s edge, their breath visible as gentle mist on the early morning air. The sun had only just winked awake over the horizon when Noctis cast. 

Gladio had only recently begun testing theories that the Prince wasn’t nearly as lazy as he pretended to be. This is the third Saturday in a row that Noctis jumped on the opportunity for a sunrise fishing trip and Gladio hasn’t yet needed to physically drag him out of bed. Noctis meets him the parking garage, rod and kit in one hand, a thermos in the other. He’s not sure Ignis would believe it if he told him, but Gladio doesn’t feel like telling anyone anyway. He chuckles to himself. 

Without turning around, Noctis speaks his first words in several hours. 

“What’re you reading?” 

“Just finished one,” Gladio answers. “Now I’m going to start _The Epic of Gilgamesh_.” 

“What’s it about?” 

“The back cover says it’s about arrogant king and the hero the astrals send to defeat him. Apparently they become friends in the end, but I’ll let you know.”

Noctis doesn’t respond. A pang of hunger takes Gladio and he rises from where he had settled against a sloping tree trunk. The rocky river sand crunches under his feet and he kneels in front of their supplies. Gladio grabs an apple and slides a handful of almonds into his jacket pocket. Cracking the cooler, he sees that Noctis has already filled it with fish, though he continues to catch and release. As he crosses behind him once more, Gladio offers Noctis a few almonds and he shrugs, popping three into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully while he switches his line. 

Gladio sits back down at his tree and bites into the apple, folding the cover open with his thumb and bringing the book up to face level to read. This way every few lines he can flit his eyes over the horizon of his book to watch Noctis fish, the whiz, plunk, whir of his sport a pleasant soundtrack behind his story. He toes out of his boots and lets the sun warm his feet, pops an almond into his mouth every few pages, staving off hunger. He’s curious how long Noctis will fish if no one interrupts him. Maybe he’ll keep at it all day. 

Two hours later, Gladio looks up blearily from his book, having been entirely lost in the story. He is halfway through. He dog-ears the page and sets it down beside him, standing up to crack his back, do a few squats, re-enter his body. 

Noctis appears like a statue where Gladio had left him, his eyes trained on the smooth surface of the water, his shoulders rising and falling with the steady rhythm of his breath. Gladio wonders what Noctis thinks about in the quiet hours he spends standing at the water’s edge. The sun burns down on them from directly overhead, and from where Gladio stands, Noctis’ face is cast in the dark shadow of his hat brim, shrouded and unreadable. 

The older he gets, the more often Gladio finds himself worrying. Books have become a necessary distraction, and just thinking the thought makes Gladio nervously reach for his novel where it lay on the rock. Gladio feels like he needs the characters in these stories to help him make sense of his own story, penned before his birth by an author he would never know. He needs symbols and motifs to help him explain _why him? Why them?_ He wrings the novel in his hands for a few moments before sliding it into his back pocket. 

Gladio approaches Noctis on the dock, his bare feet hugging the damp wood. He recasts. He spins the reel. He lets the lure dance across the surface of the water. It’s almost intimidating, Noctis’ ability to be alone with his thoughts like this. 

“Ready to go?” he asks without turning to him. 

“Nah,” Gladio answers. He holds a palmful of nuts out to him and Noctis looks at him then, his blue eyes piercing the shadow on his face when he takes the offering. “I’ve got a hundred more pages.” 

Tired of sitting, Gladio stands and reads on the pier beside him. 

An hour later, Noctis reaches into Gladio’s pocket and takes a handful of almonds. He eats them while he respools his line, changes the lure and cracks open a new can of bait. Gladio watches him thoughtfully and doesn’t return to his book until Noctis casts once more. 

_The End_

He closes the book and slips it into his pocket. The sun has crossed the sky and their sunburnt ears are pink in the afternoon sun. Though Gladio is still standing, Noctis is not. He sits on the dock, his bare feet plunged beneath the water, fishing rod pinched between his knees. 

“How was it?” Noctis asks. 

“What?”

“The book.”

“Ah,” Gladio says, laying a hand over the paperback in his pocket. “It was good. Been awhile since I finished a whole book in one sitting like that.” 

Noctis is climbing to his feet, untying his hook and packing away his rod. Gladio should help him, but he’s frozen by the realization that they had both been waiting for the other person to be finished. Gladio stares down at him, desperate for insight, but finds nothing but on his inscrutable face, his true thoughts hidden by the same impenetrable wall of stoicism and apathy Gladio has been trying to break through his entire life with the Prince so far. He thinks maybe he’s onto to something, though. Maybe they can make these weekend fishing trips a regular thing. He’ll pack more food, bring more books, and maybe out here they’ll find some answers, if not some peace.

“Bring more food next time,” Noctis says, echoing his thoughts, nudging his heavy tackle box towards Gladio with the toe of his boot. Gladio lifts it, chuckling.

“Sure.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! ^^
> 
> I'm @taketheblanket on twitter.


End file.
